Yours
by Achernar-amnis-faux
Summary: "Oh, you think I have never bestowed my body to another man? For all my lovers these arms of mine, this breast of mine are a sweet shelter. For you they are an unbearable prison." Have you ever heard of Atem's royal wife?


I've been having this idea in my mind for a while before finally deciding to put it down in a story: what about Atem's wives? I've studied a prince couldn't be crowned pharaoh if he wasn't married, so Atem had to be married in his previous life. I've imagined his royal wife as a woman older than him, who loved him more like a mother than like a wife does. Hope you'll like it. Thank you to Emily for helping me editing this story ^^

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Yours

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It's the dusk by now.

The warm wind of Akhet brushes your golden cheeks.

Ruffles your colored hair.

Makes your precious eyes half-close.

Swirls your clothes of fine linen.

What are you thinking about, oh young pharaoh? What is disturbing your mind, what is upsetting your heart? _Who_ is upsetting your heart?

I see you. Standing on the large terrace of our room, in the capital's luxurious palace. We are surrounded by verdant nature and valuable clothes, refined food, silken music and ancient books. Ceilings painted by the most famous artists, thousands of servants, thousands of subjects. We are in the luxurious palace in Thebe. In _your_ palace. Everything here is yours. You are the pharaoh after all. Everything belongs to you. Me too. I'm yours.

And yet I know, among all the things you own, you would do with pleasure without owning me. Especially when you have to make me really yours. In that case I see you: I see your eyes, red as rubies, always so luminous, fading out little by little. The sparkle of lust lights them for a second, in the most intense moment, but it is still nothing compared to their usual brightness. I see your mouth, so beautiful, curling in that grimace of hurt and constraint and I am about to cry, because a pharaoh should never feel constraint, never feel trapped.

And that is how I see you, o my bridegroom: caged.

Oh, you think I have never bestowed my body to another man? For all my lovers these arms of mine, this breast of mine are a sweet shelter. For you they are an unbearable prison.

The wind is ruffling one of your rebellious locks, revealing a portion of your face, and the last golden rays of the setting sun allow me to see your lips. You are smiling. And I believe I know why.

You are waving, you receive an answer, imperceptibly then you answer yourself, lowering your head in a gesture of assent. I know what you are saying: yes, everything is over, you fulfilled your duties today too, yes, you will be able to meet him later, yes, you love him too, no, she is asleep.

You lean completely on the red clay parapet, but I can see you. It is a kiss you are sending to him, and if I have not lost my mind entirely yet, he would answer you back.

This is who is upsetting your heart. A young of which I can't remember even the social backgrounds, though I believe he was a cousin of yours, if my memory is not playing tricks on me. He is beautiful, you know? Yes, you surely know. He resembles you so much, with his colored hair, just like yours, his proud demeanor yet less regal, his intense stare still more sweet.

Cheer up my beautiful husband. Soon you will be able to leave these hated rooms you have to share with your royal wife, you will be able to go hold close your lover, to laugh with him, to tell him how much you missed him, to rejoice in his sweet and crystalline laugh, in his night colored eyes, in his amber skin. Then you will be able to play chase like two kids in their first love, to find yourself in a bush, in a remote corner of the garden when the light has already faded and it is dark, and to make love under the shimmering stars and the silent complicity of the moon.

I will not oppose.

What good?

A pharaoh owns many things, he owns his kingdom, his subjects, his wives. But he is still a human, even if tradition claims him to be a god. And you, my, and maybe not so mine, beloved bridegroom are a seventeen year old young man nevertheless, and as every young man of this age you need your adventures and your impossible love in order to flee the responsibilities, too many, that already weigh down your head. In order to forget, during the sweet moments you will spend together, who you truly are.

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Review please? That'd really help me improve my writing 3


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